


Lion's Share

by Lestradesexwife



Series: Alec/James/john [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Canon-Typical Violence, Double Penetration, Frottage, Immobility, M/M, Multi, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Threesome - M/M/M, emotionally not physically, john might be a bit damaged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:26:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is on a post-mission enforced two week break. There is probably a ceiling on the amount of sex they can have, but they haven't hit it yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> LapOtter is the bestest most amazingist wonderful reader ever. Any mistakes are my own.

The next three days blur in John’s memory; rather he remembers all of it in perfect startling clarity, though the order is all mixed up. His brain has grouped all the acts together; all the meals taken on his knees, and he probably will grow tired of the taste of James’ fingers but it hasn’t happened yet. It had started Saturday morning, setting out breakfast James had been satiated, loose rolling hips and warm smiles, when John left the bedroom in borrowed pajamas. The first part of the meal spent sitting in a chair, nausea slowly dissipating as Alec explains that James is on a two week “medical” leave. That he is forbidden for political reasons from leaving London. That they appreciate his hard limit of having to work on Monday, but would he be willing to leave here Sunday night, possibly even Monday morning, return after work Monday evening?

 

John remembers asking “What if I didn’t _have_ to work on Monday?” and the look James had given Alec. The return of the predator, instantaneous, electric, sending a course of adrenaline through John. He adds “I... I make my own schedule. I can call and tell them to get someone for...” The lie necessary, how do you tell someone you aren’t employed? That you haven’t been since your flatmate walked off a building and made you watch. Especially when that someone is James and is looking at you with a very specific hunger in his eyes.

 

Alec negotiated, thanked John, told him that he is welcome to leave whenever he likes, and that they’ll leave word with the doorman to let him in whenever he wanted to come back, within the two weeks. John retrieved his phone from his jacket in the front hallway closet and called Mrs. Hudson, told her that something had come up and he might not be home for two weeks, assured her he is fine and that he’ll call her when he gets a chance. He’d come back to a completely different atmosphere at the table. James indicated a spot on the floor on his left side and John had eaten the rest of his breakfast from James’ fingers. There’s no pattern to the rest of the feedings; Alec and James don’t alternate and it is heavily in James’ court. John’s not entirely sure if Alec leaves the lion’s share for James, or if James has claimed for himself. If John is forced to choose, he’d pick the chocolate pudding, kneeling between them and chasing crumbs and icing off their fingers with his tongue. 

 

John did not want to make use of Alec’s offer to leave, it turned out all he did need was a spare toothbrush and a set of borrowed pajamas. Not that he spent much time in the pajamas, he is beginning to wonder how much sex three men could actually have in the course of two weeks. They did seem to be trying to find out, and John is more than willing to accommodate.  After breakfast that first morning James had wrapped John’s wrists and ankles, soft silk cord with loops that could be quickly tied off. John had tried not to read too much into it, but it felt like being claimed and it soothed his nerves. Two weeks is plenty of time, and now he knew that he is welcomed and wanted he had relaxed, let the ropes hold him.

 

John inhales and exhales, holding his thoughts on the necessity of maintaining a constant airflow. Sensations and memories force their way around his focus: the attention that James pays to John while he is creating the harnesses, how James likes to draw that stage out. John has been encompassed in ropes, been fully immobilized in a matter of minutes; but James likes to take his time, stroke fingers and tongue over skin before the rope until John is begging for more and the rope feels like it is holding all of the sensation in. Inhale, exhale, _focus John._

 

It requires his consent, his active participation in the beginning. John could fight back, could stop them if he didn’t want this. James could overpower him, James and Alec together form an overwhelming force that John would be helpless against. And yet every order, every command is a plea. John has never been more in control, it is heady and intoxicating and John surrenders completely to it. 

 

He wasn’t sure what he had expected, that first morning, but he hadn’t expected to be kneeling on the floor in front of James while Alec fucked James. To not feel excluded even when neither of them were touching him. And when Alec had pressed James against John, and he’d had to brace against Alec’s thrusts. The full body contact with James being the only thing that kept them all upright. The mess of stuttering hips and moans when Alec had shoved his hand between them, wrapped one hand around both their cocks and the other around the back of John’s head to pull him past James and kiss John roughly. He’d arched and his orgasm had smashed into him, blinding and unexpected. The slide of his come over James’ cock and Alec’s fist bringing James off, his groans muffled in John’s shoulder. 

 

They’d kissed, James holding John close, knees spread around John’s, practically sitting in John’s lap. Alec’s balls brushing against John’s thighs, his fingers digging grooves into James’ hips, the slide of tongues and lips over skin nearly gentle in comparison. 

 

None of this is helping, but John can’t remember a single thing from before this, he can’t find a single thing in his mind to distract him from the tightening in his balls and the _need_. “Please, please Sir...” He shakes his head, resisting the urge to use his only range of motion to bang the back of his skull against the hard table, the pain might distract him for a moment, but it might also make James secure his head. He can do this, he can control himself. “Please, _James....”_  He doesn’t know if using James’ name will end this or draw it out, but he needs to try something. 

 

Above him Alec is sweating, thighs trembling and head thrown back. The contractions of Alec’s arse around John’s cock are enough to know that Alec is as close as John. There should be nothing to stop Alec, as far as John can tell, he’s under no obligation to obey James’ command not to come... not to come yet... please god let it be not yet. He doesn’t think James would deny him, but he could pull Alec off, leave John hard and aching until he comes down on his own. He has some play in his hips, the human body can’t be fully immobilized without damage, and James’ ropes aren’t tight enough to cut off circulation. John’s legs are shoulder width apart, strapped individually to the table, from just below his hips to his ankles, James had drawn that out. There’s a gap around his groin before the ropes resume around his navel, woven through holes in the table. He has some play in his shoulders, just enough to strain up to catch the first of the kisses Alec gave him. His arms are comfortable at his sides, his fingers can move, scrabble uselessly at the surface of the table, but there is not enough play at his wrist to have any hope of touching either Alec or himself.

 

“Do you think you can make him come, John?” James’ voice is close to John’s ear and he tilts his head, straining to see James. 

 

James pulls back, keeping himself just out of John’s reach. “Please James....” John doesn’t even know what he wants from James now. He arches his hips, lifts himself as much as he can to get closer to James. Pulls uselessly against the ropes, savours the burn of friction over his skin.

 

“I want to take you out for dinner John. Hide a harness under your clothes and take you to a fancy restaurant. I could make you come at the table just from pulling on the ropes the right way. I’d take you into the men’s room to clean you up and put you on your knees.”

 

“ _Yes_ , please, yes Sir. Whatever you want.” John strains, the tiny thrusts of his hips deeper into Alec feel almost like inching closer to James. 

 

“Jesus, _James_ you can’t negotiate with him like this.” Alec grits it out, the roll of his hips matching John’s thrusts. 

 

John groans and pushes higher into Alec, shutting his eyes to try and hold on just a little longer. The idea that they might stop and actually talk is terrifying, but the grind of Alec’s hips against his is a comfort. He can’t keep this up, the rope is digging into his stomach and he is losing the battle against the restraints and gravity. 

 

“I wasn’t trying to negotiate. I’ll ask him again later, if you insist. Or you can.” Those words come from over John, the ghost of breath over where the rope digs into his stomach. “It only just occured to me, and I have no self control.” The touch of tongue pushes John back down onto the table. It is only barely wide enough for Alec’s knees, so it is nothing for James to lean over and brush his tongue along the ridge where skin meets silk. John exhales as the touch of tongue trails away, realizing that they have both frozen, balanced, on John’s part at least, on the edge of orgasm. 

 

“ ** _James_** , fuck.” Even when John says their names in conversation it sounds like a ‘Sir.’ Alec’s voice wraps around the sound in a completely different way. Alec’s hips twitch, pulling high off John’s cock before plunging back down, shocking John’s eyes open. Alec’s fingers curl tight against the back of James’ skull, holding him close as he rocks between John’s cock and James’ mouth. “I take it this means you are done playing with us for now?”

 

John has never put much thought into the tone of groans before, but the positive tone of this one breaks through the last of his restraint. The vibrations in James’ throat echo through Alec’s body and trigger John’s orgasm, his head knocks on the table in time with the pulses of his cock deep inside Alec. 

 

His mind resumes functioning in time to recognize Alec pulling free of them both, dropping James’ head onto John’s stomach and the feather light kisses that James pecks along the edges of the ropes. 

 

“Untie him and let him come down before you ask him anything.” Alec stands over them, watching the line of kisses as it progresses over John’s stomach. He’s holding a bottle of water and it would be so easy for him to be jealous or angry, instead he just sounds fond, and satiated. He lifts John’s head and shoulders slightly and offers him some water. John drinks greedily, unashamed as the water spills over his lips and runs down his shoulders. He keeps the knowledge that he hasn’t been down since Saturday’s breakfast to himself, he’s not willing to give up an instant of this. 

 

James doesn’t untie him right away, and it takes ages to free him, in the end, from the table. He could have cut the ropes, the safety shears always close to hand, but he carefully loosened each knot and coiled the bits of rope as they came away from John’s skin. When only the loops around John’s wrists and ankles remain James helps him sit up, rubs feeling back into his skin.

 

John nuzzles against James’ hand, presses a kiss against his palm, “Thank you, Sir.” before sliding to the floor and taking James in his mouth.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting fitted for a suit that will hide ropes. And then sex.
> 
> Unbeta'd... I think maybe I caught all the really horrible bits... but feel free to throw tomatoes.

John tries not to let his pride get in the way. James wants this, and really if James wants him in a new suit to better hide the ropes, then James can bloody well pay for it. They’d tried the harness under his suit and found it ridiculously obvious that there was something lumpy inside his shirt. That the whole thing feels like a cliche straight from Pretty Woman... well John isn’t thinking about that.  He’s trying to avoid having any thoughts at all... while the tailor pokes and prods at him. That is helping honestly, that James had made a call, and a tailor had appeared at the flat less than forty-five minutes later. It is also helping that the tailor is a tiny, grizzled man, who didn’t even bat an eyelash at the sight of John in pants and a vest and a full rope harness.

 

“If I may suggest... Sir may find better lines with a different cut to his pants.” The comment is addressed to James, and John doesn’t even bother to bristle. In fact has to resist the urge to smile and laugh. He watches the corners of Alec’s mouth turn up slightly, James is engrossed in fabric samples and waves his hand dismissively. 

 

“Whatever you think is best.” His finger taps on a sample and he rises from the couch to hold it up next to John. “This one.”

 

“Very good, I would suggest either that or the green for him. I have...” He flaps his hand at the sample. “It can be done by this evening. Without difficulty.”

 

The sound in the back of James’ throat is appreciative. “You are a miracle worker, Giovanni, can we have the green as well?”

 

John allows the smallest noise in protest to that, and James looks at him sharply. Giovanni doesn’t notice, or is very good at pretending to not notice. 

 

“Hmm, of course Mr. Bond. He’ll require shirts. For the cut I am thinking... and cravats... pocket squares. I will send the boy with everything he will need.” He pulls a small notebook and pencil from his inner pocket and makes a note of several numbers. “Your dinner is at seven?” James nods and smiles. “Always the last minute, this is why I enjoy your calls, such a challenge. It will be done.” He pats his pockets, tucking away the book and his measuring tape. “The boy will be here by six.” James hands him the sample book and turns to show him out.

 

Alec rises and wraps John in his bathrobe. “Jesus, how much is all that going to cost?”

 

“Less than you think, probably. And it doesn’t matter. James has more money than he knows what to do with. He’s always putting holes in his suits to give himself an excuse to get new ones.”

 

“But that’s him... I’m not... He doesn’t need to do that, for me.”

 

Alec smoothes his hands over John’s shoulders, down his arms, taking hold of his wrists and pinning them together. “Hypothetically, imagine... all those ridiculous gangster and spy movies where the bad guys get paid in shipping containers of money. Now, imagine if it was real... the money not the movies... And technically it is evidence... but evidence of something that never happened... so... sort of like hazard pay. He literally won’t be able to spend it all in his lifetime, so don’t make a fuss.”

 

“Alright.” John lets his gaze drop to his hands still clasped beneath Alec’s. John sways forward and pulls on the connection at the same time, rocking them together to catch at Alec’s lips. “He’ll have to pay for the drycleaning too, if he makes a mess of them.”

 

Alec laughs, the passage of air over John’s lips raising delicious sensation through his body. “I think we can manage that as well.” He pulls closer, holding John steady at the wrists. “How should we spend the time until dinner?”

 

“Shame, not to put this harness to use.”

 

James is already standing by the hall to the playroom, when John turns his head to look for him. “Come.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“Strip.”

 

The robe, pants and vest are all discarded, neatly folded and put away in their proper places. Alec watches as John goes through the motions, settling on the tan leather couch.  The harness starts at his hips this time, the first clips attached to the chains pulling him up onto his toes. John expects to be bent forward, hung flat and open. Instead he is secured on his knees, swaying gently on the chains, floating upright. His knees are bent, his arms secured behind him, John helps James when he can, not passive until he can’t move without swinging free. James wraps his legs in two sheets of latex; taking some of the strain off the ropes again but leaving his legs free. John feels weightless, like kneeling on ice, or a floor slicked with oil. 

 

“You are gorgeous.” James runs fingers over the exposed skin on John’s chest. He pulls back breaking contact and stepping back. “Alright?”

 

John rocks his hips, swinging himself towards James. The weight distribution of the chains brings him back to centre and motionless entirely too soon. “Please, Sir.” Alec’s made it clear that he will never be left alone in either ropes or chains, but he needs to be touched now. The presence of Giovanni had electrified him, he wanted to feel their hands on him again, knowing that someone else has seen. He’s never really considered himself an exhibitionist, but he’d found himself wishing that he could draw a reaction from the tailor. Some shock, some sign that what John is doing is special.

 

James stops, doesn’t retreat any further and begins undressing himself. John wants to writhe against the chains, manages to hold himself still against the utter uselessness of it. James could be across the room or inches from John, and John wouldn’t be able to touch him unless James allowed it. He wants so badly to beg, to plead to be allowed the contact he needs. He shudders when he hears the small sound in his throat, exhales and relaxes when he recognizes the stretch of his neck and shoulders towards James. 

 

Alec steps up and takes James’s shirt and trousers, John’s lips turn up because James hadn’t been wearing pants. John sighs as James pulls him close, pulling the ropes tighter until John’s breath catches and he can feel every point of connection to the chains again.

 

Alec is holding a length of fabric; thick and black it will cut out all the, admittedly low, light in the room. “You can say no, John. This is enough.”

 

“Just... hold onto me. I did that stress test in the Army... just don’t let go.”

 

He doesn’t reach up to immediately tie the blindfold over John’s eyes. They surround him, fingers and lips reaching places left exposed by ropes and chain. The ropes hold him upright, make it impossible for him to melt under their attentions. This is one of the times that his hands being bound feels like punishment, that he can’t return the touches is nearly more than he can bear. And in the next moment he is glad for that last barrier between them, this is only two weeks. If he started touching them now, like this, he won’t be able to walk away when it is over.

 

“Please, Alec. Please... god. I need it.”

 

James nipped at John’s ear, spreading the chains at his side apart to create a space for himself inside John’s bindings. “Would you let me keep you this way? I want to know how long you can fly until you are rutting against air. I want to sit on the couch with my cock down Alec’s throat and watch you float. I can’t decide if I’d want to put a plug in you, or leave you wanting. I could come, watch Alec fuck you and have a nice slow wank. You’d have to wait for me. You’d give me that, wouldn’t you John?”

 

“Yes, _oh god, yes._ ” John tries to turn his head but James pulls away. _Ten days, there are still ten days._ “Please Sir.” His jaw clamps shut and he drops his head between his shoulders, _Ten days, I can do ten days, it will be enough._

 

“John?” Alec, he’s worried Alec.

 

“I can’t choose. I’m _pathetic_ and I want both and I can’t choose.”

 

James is obviously perfectly capable of articulating desires, which is why the possessive, growling sounds that come from him are _so_ much more. Alec slips the cloth over John’s eyes and ties it tight enough that it won’t come off if John struggles. “You are perfect and dangerous John. They’d better actually need me to stop a world war, because I’m not going back to work for anything less than a doomsday event after this.” He leans close, the buttons of his shirt catching on the ropes over John’s chest. “You don’t have to choose John. There is time for everything.”

 

There is never a loss of contact, because James is careful, even now. Alec is pulled away, and John bucks and shudders in the chains when Alec is pressed back against him. The smooth lines of his back covering John from neck to hips. 

 

Alec’s laugh is deep and dark, doesn’t cover the sound of buttons hitting the floor. Alec’s head comes back to rest on John’s shoulder. “There you are John, he’s always coming up with new excuses to buy me a new wardrobe too.”

 

John turns towards him, blind seeking met with confidence. John should say something, should thank him, instead when he opens his mouth Alec catches his lip with his teeth and pulls, shorting out John’s language centres and earning a groan instead. John rolls his hips, sending them all swaying. 

 

“Patience,  John.” Alec’s fingers curl into John’s hair, holding tight to the blindfold, pulling their mouths together for a sloppy kiss.  His breath catches at the removal of Alec’s trousers, James’ hands sliding between them, over the curve of Alec’s arse. The slow double step as the fabric falls to the floor and Alec pushes clear. James hands come up again, pull John in close until his cock is wedged between Alec’s arse cheeks. Alec’s skin is warmer than John’s but James’ hands feel like fire against John’s hips. John wants to push deeper, but James’ hands hold him still. 

 

Alec’s hips move in fractions, not really pulling away from John enough to give him anything to work with. The _suggestion_ of movement, accompanied by the knowledge that if he could open his eyes and look down over Alec’s shoulder he would see James; lips stretched around Alec’s cock, eyes closed or open and looking up at them. He’s fighting with himself, knowing it is irrational to be jealous of James’ mouth. That he should be able to taste Alec, when all John has ever had is latex. _It’s your bloody rule, Watson, and it is there for a reason._

 

He bites down on Alec’s shoulder, pinching skin gently in his teeth against the desire to plead, the wicked and completely irrational desire to renegotiate his terms. He knows Alec wouldn’t listen to him like this, but it is better not to let the idea live in the air. _Temptation_ not something they need more of in this... whatever this is. 

 

“Fuck, _John._ Harder” Alec rolls his shoulder up to meet John’s mouth. 

 

John opens his mouth, licks at the spot. Smiles at the disgruntled noise Alec makes, and revels as it morphs through pained to exquisitely pleasured. He worries his teeth deep into Alec’s muscle, using the grip to give him enough leverage to push his cock hard into the cleft of Alec’s arse. The soft clink of the chains as he moves a too gentle counterpoint against the sounds James is making. Alec is letting the force of John’s thrusts push him forward into James’ mouth, despite how feeble they are, he’s magnifying them, pushing deeper. John has no idea where Alec’s hands are, if they are tangled in James’ hair or stroking over his own body. John feels even more like an intruder in their relationship for not being able to see what is happening, his imagination supplying him with graphic details, perhaps wholesale fabrications.

 

“When you are done with him...” Alec’s hips buck and John whimpers at the hard thrust against him. “ _Fuck._ When you are finished with him... _James....._ I want to let him _fuck_ me again. I want him in me while I _fuck_ you.” His hips press deep, back and forth. 

 

John groans and bites down harder, needing to hold in those words. _Fuck, they’ve ruined me. How am I supposed to do... anything after this._ He thought of Sarah, offering to let him kip at the end of her bed, the slow careful seduction that had blown itself to pieces with a kidnapping and near death experience. He tried to imagine the same thing happening now... someone kidnapping him, having to rescue himself, having James and Alec sweep in at the last moment... _fuck_ maybe he had been ruined all along and never known it. With these two... hell with him, getting kidnapped would be _foreplay._  

 

Alec groaned and knocked his head against John’s shoulder, shuddering his orgasm down James’ throat. John loosened his grip on Alec’s shoulder, letting the thrill of running his tongue over the deep marks from his teeth soothe him as Alec twitched between them. In the dark behind the blindfold he imagined Alec fucking him into the sandy floor of the tramway tunnel. Flickering firelight, and James keeping watch, making sure they weren’t interrupted by friend or foe. 

 

 _You are a sick fuck John Watson. People died there, you very nearly died there._ He tried to muster something approaching self-loathing and found that it was impossible. “ _Don’t be too hard on yourself John. You are hanging from the ceiling in the flat of two near-strangers... you can hardly be expected to have... normal thoughts at a moment like this.”_ That Sherlock should offer such advice makes it more obvious that John has a deeply flawed... brain... relationship with sexual pleasure... whatever you want to call it. John is well and truly fucked.

 

_“Might as well enjoy it then.”_

 

Alec holds John while James moves around behind, parting the chains to settle between John’s legs. The crinkle of the condom wrapper and the snap from the lube container bring John back to the present.

 

“Hard, please... Sir... fuck me hard.” John has never, before them, had opportunity to discern the difference between slow and gentle. There was nothing gentle in the way James presses into him, one hand wrapped around his hip and the other over his shoulder and _just_ close enough to his throat. No pause to savour being fully seated before thrusting hard and deep into him. Sharp thrusts that John gives himself over to completely. 

 

James fingers tighten at his throat, pushing him forward until the ropes creak and the chains sing with the force. “With pleasure.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even remotely the end.... I'm going to keep adding chapters.... until I get to the end. 
> 
> Deal with it.


	3. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure who to blame for this growing a plot... Maybe Greg... yes... definitely Greg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lapotter deserves all the shiny gifts and nice baked goods.
> 
> Feel free, as always to throw tomatoes at me if you find something ugly... I have this terrible habit of changing things after Otter looks at it... so they are all my fault

John is fairly certain the ropes are multiplying. There has been nothing as overt as a delivery in tasteful brown paper, and James never leaves him alone longer than the space of time it takes to shower. John will admit that he has been taking more than his fair share of showers, but there is almost always fresh rope waiting for him when he steps out of the bathroom. John has taken the ropes to the wash, so he knows there is always some rope in either the washer or the dryer. It is all nearly the same colour, so it blends together in his mind, he has trouble imagining it as separate items. In less than a week the rope and harness have become constants in his life. 

 

He towels off, and it is possible that they have ordered in more towels as well, and picks up the pair of pants that came over with his new suits. Strictly speaking they needed to be described as pants, although the first word that comes to mind is skimpy. The fact that they perfectly matched the ropes, well it just proves to John that Giovanni had in fact noticed him. _So desperate for attention that you are willing to debase yourself this far._ John pulls the pants on, suddenly angry with himself. For all that his inner voice sounds like Sherlock, it is still John’s inner voice. _Yes, I am. Maybe I am pathetic, but the last person that paid any attention to me made me watch him walk off a building. I deserve something that makes me feel good._ John opens the cabinet and pulls out his razor and shaving foam. Alec had asked, at some point, and John had answered with the brands he normally used. They’d appeared the next time he’d gone for a shower, and John reminded himself that he isn’t at Hogwarts, they just have an obscene amount of money, and the building has to have at least a dozen staff members hovering in dark corners waiting for something to do. In the scheme of things, running down to Tesco’s for shaving foam, even at an ungodly hour, probably didn’t even register. Not even for the rent-boy in the penthouse.

 

His heart is pounding and he leans against the counter until his hand stills and he can trust himself not to make a hash out of his face. They’ve had sex in configurations that John didn’t even know existed before he met them, and yet the idea of going out to dinner with them still makes his stomach lurch in anticipation. This is real, it could be something more than the rope. If he’s honest with himself he would be happy to have the rope, and nothing more, without the deadline hanging over his head: _nine days._ He stiffens, looking at himself in the mirror. “Ask and ye shall receive. Or not.” He sprays foam into his hands, slathers it over his cheeks. “Don’t cock this up, Watson.” 

 

Sometimes John lets himself wonder what they get up to when he’s not in the room. There is almost never any evidence, beyond that one cigarette. He thinks they must be bored by now, tired of giving him space on the other side of the bathroom door. They never show it; James gives him only his control and attention, even those times when he is frantic and needy - tying John’s wrists and ankles together before pressing into his mouth. It may just be because this time John is watching, focused on the weave of ropes over his skin, that this time feels like a ceremony, like being dressed for battle or sacrifice. He wants to never make it out of the room, he wants the ropes to cover him, and then to fall to his knees or to be lifted up: _nine days, ten if you are still counting today._ John chokes on a groan when Alec holds the shirt out to him. Each of the buttons, closed under Alec’s fingers, shuts in more of the sensation. The trousers, waistcoat, and jacket drop onto his skin until he can’t tell if he wants to never take it off or tear it away, overwhelmed by need and sensory input.

 

There are so many things that John should be doing. Everything takes double the length of time that it should normally, because he is being lazy and making Alec and James do it for him. Or he should be helping them get dressed, he is supposed to be laying out their clothes and straightening their ties, doing this _properly._ He’s terrible at this. Instead he’s standing at parade rest with Alec’s arms over his shoulders, watching as Alec ties John’s tie in the mirror. Thankfully, despite the amount of time they have taken over preparing John and his inability to offer proper assistance to them, they perform a complicated maneuver that ends with all three of them properly dressed and presentable, at least on the outside.

 

They are at the door, checking pockets for keys and wallets, when James turns to John, firm hands over John’s shoulders and arms. The suit does its job, the ropes are invisible, but John can feel their outline against James’ hands. 

 

“You are mine under there.” James is stating facts, and John lets himself go a little boneless. Offering without demanding, without the weakness he feels, the _needing_ to drop to his knees, John lets it be up to James.

 

His hands are already moving as James’ grip changes. John’s pockets are full of condoms and lube, the only supplies he needs for the evening. _There is a joke about “Have gun, will travel.” in there somewhere._ The pressure from James’ hand drops him down to his knees; John keeps from making a relieved sound as James catches his hand and presses it against the hard line of his cock in his trousers. “You are mine.”

 

“Yes.”

 

James takes the condom from John’s fingers, opens his fly and pulls his shirt loose. John waits, watching James watch him, hands flat over the line of his knees, pressing down slightly to increase the dig of the ropes into his skin. 

 

John has to kneel up slightly to take James into his mouth, knows that this isn’t a time for teasing licks and slow progress. This is a time for being possessed, giving himself over to James and letting himself be taken. 

 

Alec closes the distance, presses his thigh into John’s back and wraps his arm around James’ waist, pulling them tight against each other. Trailing gentle fingers inside the edge of John’s collar where it slants away from his neck. “I should make you drive. Send the car away and fuck him in the backseat while you drive us.” John groans, swallowing hard around James, at the reminder that he is Alec’s as well, that he is balanced on a knife edge between them. James rocks his hips, pushing John back against Alec. They’ve had him separately... they... he can’t imagine coming between them. Whatever this is, it isn’t something that could pull them apart, even with James laying claim on John.

 

Alec pushes his knee into John’s back, fingers pressing deep into the flesh of his neck, holding him close as James fucks his mouth. “I should tie _you_ down and make you watch me take him apart, undo all the ropes and strip him naked. Forget the restaurant, and your little plan.” James responds, short sharp thrusts into John’s mouth, to something Alec does out of John’s limited sight line. “But I am not going to do that... because I can wait, it is called anticipation, James. You should try it. Makes everything... sweeter.” 

 

“ ** _Fuck, Alec.”_** James bucks his hips, and Alec’s fingers tighten against the back of John’s neck, keeping him still through the familiar, and suddenly unsatisfying, sensation of James’ orgasm filling the condom in John’s mouth. There is a small joy in knowing that he has done this, creeping warmth as James’ fingers soothe over his jaw. 

 

There is no ache as James steps away, as Alec breaks the line of contact against his back. His fingers remain, brushing soft against the hairs along his nape. James is out of earshot when Alec murmurs, “That was beautiful John.”

 

John doesn’t stir, just makes a small noise in the back of his throat. He feels... fragile. If he moves too much, too soon, he will push against Alec. Demanding where Alec has expressed preference for patience. He can wait because Alec wants him to wait, because Alec wants him. He should stand, but Alec’s fingers are still on his nape and he wouldn’t break that contact willingly unless the building was on fire. John checks his mental map of the flat and calculates distances to the fire escape, adding up the time he could wait before it became necessary to move once the fire alarm sounded.

 

The return of James, looking fresh and proper again adds another set of fingers to his nape. John’s heart skips as James pulls Alec close with his other hand, he can feel them shifting and pressing close to each other behind him. Shivers at the sound of Alec’s name on James’ tongue. Alec’s dark laugh, the sound from James a cross between contentment and despair as he pulls away and crosses the entrance to call the lift. The approaching rumble of the lift draws Alec’s fingers away, reluctant. 

 

John shakes his head, pulling himself together and back to his feet as the lift doors open. James smiles at him as he gestures for John to go first, a fully satiated predator in a fine suit. “Alright?”

 

“Yes, more than.” He’s hard and aching in his ridiculous pants, but the cut of the trousers covers that too. “Thank you, James. I needed that.”

 

Alec smirks. “Not half as much as he did.” His eyes wander over John. “Maybe I should drive and James can take care of you?”

 

James turns to look at John, pressing close against him in offering.

 

“Anticipation, I think.” John flicks his eyes down to James’ mouth, wanting to close the distance and accept a kiss but mindful of the security camera in the ceiling. His cock twitches, the idea of some nameless security dweeb being offended, or turned on, by them. He pulls back from James, just enough to put him almost in Alec’s arms. “Definitely, anticipation.”

 

He _almost_ balks at the car, too close to one of Mycroft’s to simply climb into unknowing. James holds the door and Alec’s fingers brush over his back, soothing. They climb in after him and the car pulls away, so smoothly it feels like tearing silk. He wants to curl in the space between the seats, tuck himself between their feet and close his eyes. _Can’t imagine that would be good for the lines of the suit._ He turns his head and looks out the window, avoiding the concern in Alec’s eyes. _Maybe on the way home then?_

 

Home. _Jesus, where is home anyway?_ John swallows the lump of the ever increasing list of things they should talk about over dinner, pushing back against the desire to ignore them all and let James bring him off at the table. _Might as well satisfy that new exhibistionist streak of yours._

 

Everything seems to take longer in London traffic. John finally breaks, “How scandalized would your driver be if you two just started snogging me senseless back here?”

 

John makes a note of the way James’ ears lift when he smiles. “What about your anticipation then?”

 

“I didn’t say I wanted to start snogging... Just wondered, what is the going rate for tipping to avoid embarrassing photos being taken?”

 

Alec smiles, tells a story about a very confused cab driver in a carefully unnamed Eastern European country. They all laugh and spend the rest of the journey remembering awkward moments, and small bribes paid. 

 

The restaurant is the kind of place that John has heard about, perhaps even walked past on his way to a greasy spoon down the block. Perhaps several blocks away. He rearranges some pieces in his head; this isn’t meant to impress or intimidate him. It’s just the kind of place that James is used to, and James wants him here. He invaded Afghanistan, he can hold his own against snooty waiters.

 

But of course there aren’t any snooty waiters. The chef comes out and greets Alec in a way that reminds John painfully of Angelo. There are no menus, no discussion beyond Alec asking after family, smiles, fondness and an exchange of kissed cheeks. They are settled in a booth, strategically placed with clear sightlines on all the exits. The wine steward approaches, and Alec waves for him to pour. “Whatever Mesud thinks is best.”

 

Food arrives, and John decides that it might be Turkish; it _reminds_ him of Turkey, though the shapes and textures are alien. Comforting, nostalgic and like nothing he's ever eaten before. He’s on edge, waiting for James to start on him. Gradually he relaxes, the wine and food filling holes he didn’t know he had. 

 

“I used to get kidnapped.” It is out of his mouth before he realizes that he had intended to speak. “This should probably bother me more.” He gestures at the knot of rope under his shirt, just over his heart, trying to ignore the intense looks from Alec and James. He can practically hear the list of body disposal sites and methods forming behind James’ eyes; it makes him wish he had an enemy he could point James at. It would be glorious to watch, and if anyone could find Moriarty, it would be these two. But he’s dead, or so completely uninterested in John that vengeance wouldn’t even make sense. His heart kicks again when he looks at Alec, and there isn’t even planning behind his eyes, just sure knowledge that anyone who came for John would have to go through him first. 

 

“I mean, it wasn’t all the time. But I... worked with someone, and his enemies used me to try to get to him. I can handle myself and it never... worked out well for them... but they just kept trying.” That earns him something approaching a proud smile from both of them. “What can I say, they don’t make evil geniuses like they used to.” He toys with the stem of his glass, swallowing against a stream of internal self-flagellation. “I’m going about this ass backwards. I mean to say... I quite like this. I’d gone to... well I’d tried to find someone... that I could...” He waves his hand at them, closes his eyes and tries again. “I’d sat there for hours. And not one person approached me before you. I thought it might have been the papers, by the end of it... we were in the papers, well he was in the papers, I was just there too.” John had sorted out that James and Alec didn’t get much in the way of local news on the first morning, when there hadn’t been a paper or the constant drone of the telly to distract from their more interesting pursuits. It had been a relief, and weirdly disappointing, to have found the only two men in London who had no idea who he was.

 

He lifted his glass to his lips and sipped, holding the wine in his mouth and savouring the crisp scent before he swallowed. _Really well done John. They’re going to be falling over themselves to keep you now._ “It doesn’t bother me. But I think I’ve been spoiled, so I think... I know it’s still early. There’s plenty of time left on James’ holiday. I can’t imagine... this... without.” He swallows again and licks his lips. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“John.” Alec, always Alec when they think he requires a gentle touch.

 

John closes his eyes, can’t imagine going back to the club and sitting there ignored again, or worse still watching them pass him by. “I know, it isn’t my place to ask. So consider it offered, and feel free to ignore it. I could, if you... I could be... after this. I’d rather not get kidnapped over it, but... I know you two are... and I’m not trying to be more than what I am.”

 

A tremor goes through James, and the hunger slides over him again. John would, he has, gladly given himself over to be devoured by this man. “ _John._ You are mine.”

 

“Yes, now... or later. After. Whenever.” John flinches, it sounds worse than he thought. Not even pathetic, he’s so far gone he sounds vapid. He shifts his gaze to Alec and sees the fear that he has no idea what he is asking for, what he is offering. “I don’t trust... people. Regular people. Playing at being in control, it doesn’t work... because I’m still in control really. And I am with you too. Only it’s the way it should be.” The pieces that he’d never felt connected before, with Sarah or Jeanette. _God, stop_ ** _talking_** _, John._

 

Alec leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “The two of us...” his eyes flick over at James, who’s gone quiet again. “We aren’t in a traditional relationship. We aren’t designed for it. Our work, and our... maybe our brains, certainly our cocks, aren’t designed for limitations.” Alec flinches, biting his lip before catching something in John’s eyes that makes him continue. “This does not make anything we enter into with you less important, but it also wouldn’t make anything else that happens cheating. We can’t always ask permission, and we might not always seek forgiveness. We expect the same from you; you are under no obligation to us.”

 

John’s spine straightens, unfurling from the defensive position he has rolled into unconsciously. “If I didn’t want... anyone else for this.” His hands brush over the suit. “I could... but if what I get is enough?”

 

“As long as... we wouldn’t force you to... as long as it doesn’t stop you understanding what we are, that your choice doesn’t mean we have to live up to it. We are only faithful to each other in the... I’ve killed for him, and he for me... we will again. People sometimes understand that, but... they think we... We have rules. They just aren’t... the rules as most people understand them.” Alec’s fingers close around a crumb on the tablecloth and flick it away.

 

“I know. There is a difference between sex and loyalty. I understand, honestly.” He knows more about loyalty than some, knows that it means more to Alec and James than the sex. He holds his breath unsure if he should laugh or cry, to have found this kind of relationship after... they would have understood perfectly... _Sherlock Holmes is a lucky man._  “I know I will have to prove myself, this is something you can’t just take my word on, at least not yet. I’d like the chance, please, Sir.” It is a gamble, they could reject him. Send him away and let this be the end of it, or keep him for the rest of James’ ‘vacation’ and send him home when they go back to work.

 

“John.” The way James says his name, perfectly conversational, makes it sound like _Mine._

 

John closes his eyes and he sways towards James, the sound of his name dropping him into the warm safe space of perfect calm. “I’d like to... The loo is fine. But I’d rather take my time. It was your idea, but I never did get downstairs, at the club.” He _wants_ anything and everything James is prepared to give him. Hell, if they asked he would slide under the table and suck them off right here. 

 

James makes a small needy sound in the back of his throat. “You want to go to the club? Alec, we can take him to the club?” 

 

Alec grins, indulgent and hungry, he raises his hand to summon the waiter. John’s skin flushes hot and he shifts against his ropes to relieve some of the pressure. He breaks into full high laughter when Alec orders coffee instead of asking for the cheque. 

 

“Anticipation.” James growls it out, but smiles when the waiter brings the small cups of rich dark liquid.

 

John raises his mug, and the three of them toast. “To anticipation, then.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with proper... words... courtesy of PrettyArbritrary. She says it doesn't count as work... but I still feel a little guilty about the fact that it was her day.
> 
> (puts a bunch of extra ellipses in there... just for her.)

 

The car ride to the club is warm, full of touches and laughter. The game, if it can be called that, is to see how _much_ touching they can do before they tip over into sex-in-the-back-of-a-company-car. 

 

Alec sobers, just slightly, his tone still teasing. “How many times is ‘used to’ in the past tense of kidnappings? Only, I wonder... should I get you implanted with a radio chip? I’ve given up having them put in James. He digs them out every mission.”

 

John flinches; perhaps it would have been easier if he _had_ been microchipped after the circus. “Four... Well, only two proper ‘knocked over the head and tossed in the back of a van.’ The other two... were just posturing. Enforced meetings.” 

 

Alec snorts out a laugh. “Jesus, John, you had me worried. James, do you remember that time the Russian mob king kidnapped you four times in a row?” James ducks his head and turns to the window. “I think he fancied you, kept pulling you in and tying you to chairs.” Alec pauses, leaning forward across the space towards James.  “Monologuing, I think they call it.” 

 

“He did. I still get a card at Christmas.” James throws Alec a wicked grin.

 

John snorts and looks out the window. “Well that’s me shown anyway. They do like to listen to themselves talk, though.” He smiles, just a little painfully, at the memory of Jim monologuing at him in the pool before Sherlock turned up. 

 

James pulls him back to himself, his fingers tracing a line of rope under his suit jacket. “This is alright?”

 

John laughs, and then sobers slightly when he remembers Mycroft telling him to fire his therapist. “Yes. Completely barking mad, but yes.” He slides closer to James on the seat, wanting to crawl into his lap and stay there. “Problem?”

 

James traces the lines he knows are under John’s clothes. “I can’t, Alec’s tried. Maybe it’s the repetition, aversion therapy, I can’t relax. It makes me want it off.” James is watching John, like he is afraid John will bolt from the car.

 

“It isn’t the same. When you do it, it holds me in.” John licks his lips, his throat drying at the sudden thought that he’s finally crossed the line and that Alec and James will bolt once the car stops moving. “I wanted free, then. It isn’t... getting kidnapped... I’ve... With you, I’ve never thought of it as being tied up.” He closes his eyes and lets the feel of the ropes ground him. “And that’s stupid. Of course it’s being tied up.” 

 

James’ fingers close over John’s wrist, below the last of the ropes. “I understand. I never thought of it that way. That I can... that I can be like this, with you, or Alec. It’s more than that you let me, that it makes you feel good. Or that it makes me feel... This is separate.” He leans in and brushes his lips over John’s jaw.

 

The rest of the car ride is just long enough to test John’s resolve, and to prove that James’ refractory period is definitely over. Something in the looks that Alec gives them, under the hunger and need, sends a tickle up John’s spine. He can tell that they will revisit this - but not tonight. John crawls into James’ lap, and Alec shifts to the bench beside them. The driver will earn his tip.

 

He’s warm and happy, walking the discreet distance from the car to the club entrance. It should not be a surprise, the punch in the gut in the shape of Greg Lestrade, but he’d hoped for a week before his luck ran out. Greg leans, relaxed and unthreatening, against a car in front of the club, the sharp red glow of cigarette hanging from his fingers. John lets himself be guided towards the door, hoping it’s a horrible coincidence and Greg will let him pass without comment.

 

“John.”

 

 _Well, nothing like luck then_. “I thought you had quit.” Alec and James have taken defensive positions around him, and a tiny part of his brain wonders if they even know they are doing it. Alec is a half step forward and in front of John; James has his hand on John’s arm, deceptively gentle, ready to pull him to the side and into the minimal cover between the two parked cars. John closes his eyes, wondering when Alec decided that John was worth taking a bullet for. “Is there something I can do for you, Detective Inspector?”

 

Greg flicks the cigarette end away, keeps his hands open and spread on the hood of the car. And that’s good, but that means he knows what James and Alec are and he’s deliberately being non-threatening. John smirks away a brief fantasy of calling his wrath down on New Scotland Yard, violence in bespoke suits, vengeance for Sherlock’s ghost and John’s good name.  

 

“There, that’s me quit.” Greg doesn’t fidget, doesn’t rush, and it makes John want to turn away and go into the club. He doesn’t want to play this game with Greg, not here and now and possibly not ever. John shifts his stance and Greg finally opens his mouth. “Mrs. Hudson called me when you didn’t answer your phone for two days.”

 

John’s eyes rise and check the corners of buildings, a habit he had fallen out of in the space of time since Mycroft had last darkened his door. “So you called **him**.”

 

“Only to see if... Mrs. Hudson is worried. I tried to call you.” Greg coughs, flicks his eyes down the street and back over James and Alec. “It went through to voicemail. It’s only been...”

 

“Don’t tell me how long it **_has_** been. I know.”

 

“Yeah, well, it _is_ you. So I had to check, didn’t I?” Greg has the decency to look away, turning his head to look down the street again.

 

John steps around Alec, James’ fingers falling from his elbow at the slightest pull. He stops when he is toe to toe with Greg, and Greg leans back over the hood of the car to pull away from John. “So you called _him,_ ” an angry jerk of John’s chin at the nearest CCTV camera, “instead of doing your bloody job. Well done.” It’s low and John knows it, can’t be arsed to care. “It’s a happy coincidence that you’re waiting here, then? Or have you just slipped out for a fag?”

 

“John.” Greg’s eyes slip past him, and John has another thrill down his spine. He convinced them to leave their Walthers at home tonight, but Greg doesn’t know that. “It isn’t my place, John. But she’s worried about you. And then he called me and said you would be here. What am I supposed to think?”

 

John is so far beyond anger  that he pushes closer to Greg, forcing his right leg between Greg’s feet and leaning in close to him. “You aren’t supposed to think anything, _Greg_. You don’t know me at all. I don’t need you to rescue me. This isn’t about _him_.” John stops talking and looks Greg over, noting the way his eyes shift and the hitch in his breathing. “Did you come here to see if it’s true, _Greg_?” He leans in, pressing the words into Greg’s ear. “Did you come here to see me on my knees? You can come in if you like. James got me worked up in the car... or we could give _him_ a show.” John moves, deliberately tilting his face towards the CCTV. “You don’t do everything he says, just the fun bits... don’t you, _Greg_? You know, it wouldn’t make James jealous if I sucked you off against this car... But he would fuck me so hard after. _God,_ Greg, let me?” 

 

Anyone else would have pushed John away by now, disgust or fear winning out over lust. Greg’s legs tighten around John, his whole body telegraphing effort; common sense, in the face of two potentially lethal secret agents, warring with desire. “You don’t mean that.” Greg’s voice is rough with tension and smoke. His hands, white-knuckled against the edge of the car, the slight curve of Greg’s body where their chests are pressed together, the promise of collapsing around John; John’s not sure he’s forgiven Greg, but god, Greg _wants_. He’s so perfectly balanced, one touch from John would have him whimpering and begging. The _resistance_ in him is intoxicating.

 

John pulls back far enough to look Greg in the eyes. “It doesn’t matter if I mean it or not. You _want_ me to.” John reaches into his pocket and pulls out a strand of condoms. He tears one off and sets it down just beside Greg’s hand on the hood. “For when you decide.” The rest of the strip goes back into John’s pocket as he disengages and turns back to Alec and James.

 

He’d had a moment of panic, leaned over Greg, given the sudden protective streak, that he was overstepping the rules they had laid out at dinner. His feet almost catch on Greg’s, and he very nearly drops to his knees. God, he’d let them rip the suit off and take him right there. 

 

When James reaches for him and pulls his arm around John’s waist, it feels like being hauled up over the edge of a cliff, or departing the last millimetre from the floor. His stomach clenches and his entire body hums with need. 

 

“John.” The quiet, broken sound of Greg’s voice is nearly lost under the hum of traffic.

 

Alec tenses on John’s other side. John doesn’t turn, doesn’t need to see the slow deliberate journey of Greg’s hand to his pocket. “He says your mobile... Just call Mrs. Hudson.” Alec extends his hand, returns to John’s line of sight with the neatly wound lump of wires that make up his mobile charger. John tries to summon anger at Mrs. Hudson for letting Greg into the flat. Any fury he draws up is lost under the weight of James’ arm on his waist, the brutal understanding of Mrs. Hudson’s worry. The lengths she would go to now, to make sure he is safe.

 

“I... will.”

 

Alec pockets the charger and pulls them away from the curb, away from Greg’s concern and deeper into James’ arms. The door to the club opens and closes, and they are well on their way downstairs before John comes back to himself.

 

James stops them on the landing and presses John against the wall. “Do we need to worry about him?”

 

“No, he’s harmless.”

 

Alec closes John in, tilts John’s head towards him, fingers under his chin lifting his gaze. “Do we need to worry about you?”

 

“Is there a way to answer that wherein you don’t actually worry, and I end up well shagged?” John’s eyes narrow and his mouth forms a small tight line when Alec narrows his eyes right back. “Mrs. Hudson is my... landlady. She’s protective.” He smiles at that, thinking that he really should have these two round for tea with her one day. “Part of the getting kidnapped... We worked with the Yard. Greg was our... handler, I guess you’d say, and he has residual responsibility issues.” 

 

James makes a small noise in the back of his throat, pressing his lips against John’s ear. “Your landlady is worried about you, and you just... You are going to call her and check in, aren’t you?”

 

John turns his head and looks sideways at James. “I’ll have you over for tea. She can tell you all about the time she hid a mobile the three CIA goons after they roughed her up, or the time she sicced the American police on her serial killer husband.”  He pushes away from the wall and breaks James’ hold. “She’s... she’d come looking for me, if she thought I was really in trouble. Simpler to charge my phone and let her know I’m in one piece.” He smirks. “She’s scarier than you lot.”

 

“John, if you are in trouble, we can fix it.” Alec clearly doesn’t know what to believe. His defenses have been raised, but he has no clear target.

 

“I know. God, I know. I’m really not though, not anymore - so stop making me wish I was.” John scrubs his hands over his face. “The whole... avenging angels... you don’t need to do that. I’m a pretty sure thing at this point.” John’s guts twist, his skin flushing hot. _God, John... You just offered... It’s one thing to... You just offered to suck Greg off, wrapped in their ropes._

 

Alec casts a glance up the stairs, and John _knows_ that he wants to call this off. Possibly go back up to the street and hunt down Greg, and get some answers out of him. 

 

“There is nothing to fix. Alec, please. It **is** fine.” John sags in defeat, focusing on their shoes, anger curling helpless in the pit of his stomach. “He _would_ find a way to...” _Even dead, Sherlock manages to cock up my sex life._ “Alright, that’s fine. I’ll get a cab, I can send this round tomorrow?” He swipes his hands over the suit, the weight of the ropes suddenly constricting, now that he might have to cut them off himself.

 

James takes two steps and John is pressed against the other wall, hands pinned properly at his sides and the railing digging into his lower back. “Do you need to explain yourself to us?”

 

John’s head comes up, meeting James’ eyes. “I do not. Which is why I’m going to leave.”

 

“John. You aren’t going to leave. Not yet. _Mine._ Remember?” James punctuates his words with nips on John’s ear. “Too bad your man Greg is... He could have watched after.” James lets John’s right wrist free and palms John’s cock through his trousers. “So he could see what he’d done to you. I haven’t been holding back on you John, but _fuck_ I would... you are right about that.”

 

John’s head drops back against the wall, hips rolling helplessly up into James’ touch. He bites his lip, tries not to hope for too much. 

 

James pulls away to watch John rut against his hand. “Come downstairs with us, John. Let me watch you suck Alec off. They have suspension rooms, _that_ is just for me. Come downstairs and let me fuck you, John.”

 

“ _Jesus._ Yes, please James.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reserve the right to return to this... But I think we shall take a detour into Greg's POV... and so a new section will begin... when I have time to get it out of my brain.


	5. The state of John's knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live forever in the debt of [thatworldinverted](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thatworldinverted/pseuds/thatworldinverted) for the beta-ing of this chapter. And general awesomeness.

The movements are tiny, slow, just enough that Alec’s cock doesn’t completely block John’s airway. There’s no desperation in it, no dark edges around John’s vision, if John was bothered to open his eyes and check. He’s plastered into Alec’s lap, knees folded under him, hands clasped behind his back, floating completely at ease. He could stay here forever; his only regret is that they are at the club, that it will close eventually and they will have to move, that this moment will be broken eventually. So he concentrates on Alec’s cock, memorizing every ridge and vein through the latex. 

 

He lets his tongue slide along the ridges, minimizing the contact as much as possible. James’ fingers pull through his hair, controlling the motion of his head and keeping the pace slow. This feels... John’s control slips and he drops, heavy and boneless, his head rolling slightly against Alec’s thigh. He’s not fucking or being fucked, he’s not being used, _they_ are... the three of them together. The posturing and protectiveness, they aren’t going to let him go at the end of the two weeks and he isn’t going to leave on his own. There won’t be any grand declarations, they will settle exactly like this, beyond needing to talk about it further. Well at least until one or both of them are called away, and then John will worry. God he _wants to worry about them._ He wants to be the one that they come to when they need patching up. 

 

John swallows hard around Alec’s cock, forces his eyes open to look up at them and groans at the sight of them lost in each other. He’s there, he is a part of their pleasure, and he almost comes undone from the intensity of it. They break their kiss and Alec looks down, watching as James pulls John’s head back until just the head of his cock rests between John’s lips. John bob’s slightly with the twitch of Alec’s cock, holding it steady as he runs his tongue over the slit, wishing the latex away. 

 

“God, John. Please.” Alec’s words get partly lost in the background noise of the club but John has seen his lips form those words often enough that he can groan his assent. Alec’s hand joins James’ on the back of John’s head and hold him steady as his hips begin to pump. Slow and deep at first, the glide of his cock over John’s tongue making him close his eyes again. He wishes James was inside him, both of them filling him... a completed circuit. Alec shifts under him, pulling John close and increasing his pace. John’s focus blurs, becoming points of contact on the back of his head and the awareness of the tightening of Alec’s balls. _God_ he knows... he can feel the rush of pleasure building in Alec. John wonders if he’d be punished for coming in his pants, just from sucking Alec’s cock. James would probably fuck him anyway. John groans, convulsing around Alec’s orgasm and pinching his wrist to keep from coming himself. He thinks James probably knows that John wouldn’t consider it a punishment... he groans again around the last throbs of Alec’s cock.

 

Alec’s fingers shift, pulling John up his body. John settles, straddling Alec’s lap. James shifts against them both and pulls John over for a kiss. “We have an audience.”

 

“Just an audience?”

 

“I think you broke him. He’s... he’s not moving. But he’s definitely watching.” Alec shifts between them, pulling the condom off his cock and tying it off before sliding his cock back into his pants. He leaves the fly of his trousers open. “Do you want us to run him off?”

 

“No.” John purposefully doesn’t turn to look at Greg. Instead he looks over Alec’s shoulder at all the other people in the room. Mostly engaged in acts of their own, but a few spectators loitering around. “I want you to hold me down while James fucks me. I don’t care if he’s watching.”

 

Alec’s hands cup John’s arse and pull him close. “I think that can be arranged. Get your trousers off though.”

 

John stands, pulling away from Alec slowly, and slides his trousers down over his legs, he folds them and tosses them onto the couch beside Alec. 

 

James is beside him, crowding into his space stripping off his suit jacket and pushing him back down onto Alec’s lap. John’s arms are twisted over his head before he’s even properly seated, Alec’s arm weaving through his to pin him. Alec spreads his knees and hooks his ankles around John’s. John is spread-eagle in Alec’s lap and James is already pressing into him, slick and latex blunted. The entire movement designed to shield John. Greg can watch all he likes, but he isn’t going to see more than James and Alec want him to. 

 

Alec frees one of his arms and slides it over John’s torso, tracing along the ropes until he finds John’s cock, still trapped in his pants. His ridiculous-barely-there thong, pushed aside by James’ cock and now by Alec’s hand. John’s head fits beside Alec’s, and he breathes in John’s ear. “God... Look at you, I can feel James fucking you, I’m going to get hard again... do you think you could take both of us?” John’s cock twitches under Alec’s hand as James bottoms out and starts thrusting, John arches into it. “In the morning. When you are between us.”

 

“What happened to...” John breathes as James hits his prostate and he crashes back from the edge, “to... not negotiating... when I am compromised?”

 

Alec bites his ear. “That’s a yes then. Let us fill you up John.”

 

He comes, shaking and choking, soaking Alec’s hand and his pants. James pushes deep and hard, and this time there might actually be bruises where James’ fingers are digging into his hips. John smothers his lips against James’s shoulder, pushing words against his teeth and Italian fabric. “Always, _yes_ , always.”

 

They collapse together, Alec’s fingers tracing lines over both their bodies until he shifts and pushes them off. “This couch is terrible. Next time we do this at home.”

 

By the time John thinks to look up Greg is gone. John shrugs and pulls his trousers back on, still sitting on Alec’s lap. “Oi! You weren’t the one kneeling on this horrible floor, no complaining for you.” He tries not to think too hard about the floor, glad of the thick fabric of his trousers. “But, yes, home please.”

 

James pulls him to his feet and wraps his arm around John’s waist. “Gladly.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter in the works. I have... no schedule for this... patience loves... and know that i do love you.


	6. Just like coming home

“Parcel for you Mr. Trevelyan. From the office, sir.” The doorman, not the same one from the first night, leans over the desk and calls out to them as they cross the lobby. 

 

Alec frowns and runs his hand over John’s shoulder, turning smartly on his heel and making for the little booth and ornate desk across from the door. If it wasn’t for the fact that John knows full well what James’ defensive posture means he’d think that he had lost James’ interest. John smiles as James maneuvers him out of direct sight lines and slightly to the right of the lift doors. John has a flash of worry and guilt that he’d asked them to disarm for the evening. 

 

“Ankle holster.” James must have seen the worry on John’s face. “Force of habit, sorry.”

 

“No. It’s fine.” John’s fingers twitch for his own Sig, locked in his gun safe at 221B. 

 

Alec comes back across the lobby with a thick manila envelope. The lift door chimes softly as it opens and Alec tilts his head. John refrains from asking and neither Alec nor James offer any explanation as they rise through the building to their, _“It isn’t really yours, John,”_ floor. 

 

The door opens and the lift expels them into the flat. Once the lift doors slide closed Alec turns to John. “I’m sorry. I was supposed to have... I was supposed to be home with James. I don’t know what happened.” The envelope is tucked under his arm and Alec holds out the charger for John’s mobile. 

 

“Really. It’s fine. Should I... should I go?” John doesn’t want to leave, but he knows that he probably doesn’t have clearance for whatever is inside the envelope. John accepts the charger, eyes darting between Alec and James.

 

“No. No. If... if they’d needed me they would have come to fetch me, or called by now.” Alec fiddles with the corner, pulling a little to loosen the flap. “Just... just give me a minute.”

 

John tilts his head toward the bedroom and lifts the charger. “I’ll do this then.” He rapidly discards the notion of asking James to come along and help him out of the harness. He can strip down out of the suit, but the knots of the harness are at least partly behind his back, and he doesn’t want to risk pulling the wrong strand and needing to be cut out of the harness. Objectively he knows that James doesn’t care about the expense of the rope, but John can’t really bear the idea of cutting it. 

 

His phone is in the pocket of the jacket he arrived in, hanging in the entryway closet, and he roots quickly in the pockets before turning to the bedroom. He doesn’t look back at them, lets himself walk down the hallway without turning back. It’s good that they trust him not to snoop, that he is allowed to stay in the flat. He makes sure to close the bedroom door solidly enough that he can be heard from the sitting room. 

 

He wants to collapse onto the bed, wants to curl into his ropes and sleep. He makes himself cross the room and find a socket. Strips off the suit and puts it in with the dry cleaning, the suit he arrived in has already been to the cleaners and is hanging in the plastic bag in the closet. He pulls on the loose track bottoms and nearly threadbare t-shirt over the ropes and powers up his mobile. Five messages from Mrs. Hudson, three from Greg. He deletes the three from Greg, hovering over the last one. The messages were mixed enough as it is, Greg had watched them together. Hadn’t made any moves to join them, John doesn’t think Greg will out him. That’d be a difficult one to explain... ‘ _John’s fucking two blokes, I know because I followed him into a sex club and watched him suck one off and then..._ ’

 

John laughs as he taps out a reply to Mrs. Hudson, apologizing for dropping off the face of the Earth. He checks the time on the display before deciding to send the message in the morning. No sense in waking her just to let her know he is alright. 

 

He’s just contemplating the logistics of showering in the harness when the door opens and James strides into the room. 

 

John licks his lips and glances quickly over James, he’s agitated and excited, but not angry. John clears his throat. “Hullo, I was just thinking about getting cleaned up. Will you undo the knots?”

 

“How did you do it?”

 

“Which?” John frowns and shifts his feet, torn between standing his ground and kneeling.

 

“You don’t know. You should see. Come.” James holds the door open and gestures back into the hallway. 

 

Alec has papers strewn all over the dining table. One folder sits unopened in a relatively clear space at the far end of the table. 

 

“That’s for you.”

 

John doesn’t repeat Alec’s words back to him, just circles round the table and sits in the chair. The folder has his name and rank printed on the tab, along a bar code. He’s not surprised to find that the file contains his service record, notes from his sessions with Ella and a recent physical and blood work he’d had after the case where they’d thought someone had sent Sherlock an active smallpox sample. He slides the sheets from Ella out, folds them in half and tucks them under the cover of the folder. At the bottom of the file there is a sheet with the home office header, an unsigned memo recommending one Captain John Hamish Watson for assignment to MI6. The next sheet down has a redacted header and the signature reads only “M. That doesn’t sound very cloak and dagger. What’s an M when it’s at home then?”

 

“Our boss.” Alec is watching John’s hands. “She’s... well she’s M. You’ll see.”

 

“So it seems. What’s a ‘special field agent, medical grade’ then?”

 

“We’ve no idea. I assumed you would know.” Alec holds up a copy of the same note John is looking at. “This is the first we’ve heard of it. How long have you had an application in at MI6?”

 

John frowns up at Alec, shifting his gaze to James. “I haven’t. They told me I’d never do fieldwork again because of the shoulder.” John separates out the Home office memo and pushes it across the table towards Alec. “This one smacks of the bastard that sent Greg after me. It would be like him to try and apologize.” John clears his throat. “He’d try and apologize by handing me the most dangerous thing he could find. In this case a fancy job description, and you two.” John shifts in his chair, just to feel the tug of the ropes over his skin. “He’s a massive prat, and there’s nothing to say that you, well, we wouldn’t have to do this.”

 

“You have some interesting friends.” 

 

“He’d say he’s my arch enemy, he’s got a flair for the dramatic.” John’s lips twitch, he’s overcome by a sudden urge to laugh. This is ridiculous, even for Mycroft, but John aches with the _need_ of it. 

 

This would give John something to do, something real... something dangerous. “It says discretionary fieldwork. What does that mean?”

 

James narrows his eyes and puts out his hand for John’s file. “What’s that?”

 

“Psych eval. Civilian therapist. Not exactly... relevant.” John hands over the rest of the file, surprised they hadn’t looked at it before they called him in. He waits quietly, watching their faces as first James and then Alec flip through the papers, he’s determined not to look down at the papers strewn around the table. If they want him to know something they will tell him. 

 

John presses the crease tighter on Ella’s pages, he should be furious with Mycroft for including them, he should be furious with Mycroft for a lot of things. The last couple months Mrs. Hudson has been refusing his rent checks, taken from the savings left over from Sherlock’s account.  John imagines Mycroft is responsible for his continued access to that account. “I don’t want his charity. This is him trying to manage me, out of his guilt and because he fucked up. I’ll call your boss and tell her I don’t want the job.”

 

Alec pinches his bottom lip between his fingers as he reads the last pages of the file. “No. You won’t. You are going in next week. Debrief and orientation start next Thursday.”

 

“Why?” John tries to hold the panic tight in his chest, he doesn’t want them to say no, but he’s afraid that they will say yes. “That was a long time ago. I’m not that man anymore.” John nods his head at the file. 

 

“No. You are mine now. And if you’d been with me... You can stay at MI6 and patch me up when I get home, or you can come along and...” James leans forward and laces his fingers together on the table. “You are like us, John. 

 

“So just like that, then? Bam. Suddenly I’m a field agent?”

 

“No. You’ll have to pass the tests, and show you can handle the assignments. It isn’t that different from the Army, nicer bunks sometimes... but the work is the same.” James smiles at Alec, a wolf grin. “More paperwork at the end of it though.”

 

“I’m not a secretary. I won’t do your paperwork for you.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” James pushes aside some paperwork and separates out two matching forms. “Your arch enemy, you said he likes to give you dangerous things?” He hands over the forms and John scans them quickly, checking the names and dates at the top of each. 

 

The list of negative results sends a jolt of desire through John. “My tests aren’t this recent.”

This can’t be mean what he thinks it means. 

 

“Alec and I are hardly ever home at the same time.” James stands and walks to the sideboard, pulling open the small side drawer and retrieving a ring with three non-descript keys. “Front door, service entrance and lift activation.”

 

“You don’t know anything about me and you are asking me to move in?” 

 

Alec puts his hand out, reaching for John. “We are more than a bit sexually compatible, we have similar backgrounds and interests. You are free to stay or go as you choose. You can say no to M if you must... we’ve been trying for days to think of a way to ask you to stay. You said you wanted to stay at dinner, this just means we don’t have to worry about editing our conversations. You can keep your flat, your other job, or you can stay here until you get sick of us.” 

 

“And if I don’t?”

 

“Everyone does eventually, or we die. All the more reason to enjoy what we have.” James drops the keys on the table in front of John. “I can think of at least eight things I would rather be doing with you in that harness.” James leans down over John, one hand on the back of John’s chair and the other on the table. 

 

“You say that to all the blokes.” John turns his head and stares up at James, daring him to deny it. 

 

“Do I?” James wears innocence like a fine suit and John laughs.

 

“Does it work?”

 

“Generally.” James slides his hand up John’s back and catches hold of his hair, pulling sharply and drawing John’s head back. 

 

“Yes. _Alright._ ” John hissed through his teeth, rolling his neck into the pull of James’ fingers. “I must be out of my mind... but yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit that I can't really get enough of this so.... porny epilogue coming soon.


	7. I'm so glad to be here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> many thanks to consultingsmartass for the beta, and to Antidiogenes for reminding me that I am supposed to be doing things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features double penetration... if that bothers you don't read this please.

There was a release of some pent up tension, in those last days. Suddenly they weren’t counting down, they were counting towards. Before. Before John goes to MI6 for training, before he moves in. Tiny shifts in the spaces of the flat, making room in drawers and wardrobes for John’s clothing, his RAMC mug finding a place in the cupboard alongside what should have been an odd collection of tourist mugs: Vegas, Paris, Moscow, Hong Kong. Promises made to Mrs. Hudson, telling her he’s going back to the army, that he will visit, and write. Leaving behind all of Sherlock’s things, the realization that very little of 221B belongs to him. 

 

John went and had fresh tests done, didn’t tell them that he’d done it and nothing changed, except the pace. The sex was no less frantic or demanding, with the exception of the hour or so John spent packing up 221B they are together round the clock. The acceptance, maybe that was what surprised John the most. His own and theirs, the feeling that they had stopped negotiating, even though every act still required all their consent. There’s no more carpet to be pulled out from under John. And, knowing that he knew that they were just as worried that he would leave, that he would safeword in the middle of a scene and they would just have to let him go. 

 

*****

He could still leave, but knowing that he doesn’t have to feels like a hundred pound weight has been lifted off his chest. If anything they spend more time in the playroom, but John spends less time restrained... well less time actually tied to something. James seems to have taken to bondage that makes John more accessible rather than immobile. 

 

Although... John strains against the ropes holding him, he’s still not going anywhere; even with the quick releases on his wrists that mean he _could._ He groans at Alec’s fingers brushing over his prostate, rocks as best as he can into the touch. He’s suspended, spreader bar between his ankles and _just enough_ play in the rope that he can rest on the balls of his feet. James insisted on the quick releases; even the tiniest bit of strain on John’s shoulder and he is going to be cut down. John stretches, pushing himself up onto his toes and relaxing his shoulders. 

 

“God, _please_ Alec.” 

 

Alec’s fingers curl once and then slowly pull free. There’s a ratcheting sound and the chain holding John’s hands slowly lengthens until John is standing flat footed on the floor with his hands in front of his belly. He’s amazed at how calm he feels, some part of his brain wants to beg, plead and collapse into the _wanting._ Instead he rolls his shoulders and neck and waits to be told what to do next. 

 

James’ fingers run along the line of John’s spine, just enough touch to make John shiver. John leans into it as much as he can without moving his feet. The spreader bar makes him feel off balance, standing on the edge of his body’s ability. James’ hands guide and turn him towards the sofa, pushing him down until he is straddling Alec’s lap. Alec’s hands pull at John’s hips, lining him up until he is sinking down onto Alec’s cock. John lets his eyes slip closed and his head hang down between his hands, the chain giving him just enough slack that he can rest his cheek against his bicep. 

 

Alec shifts under him, threading his legs between John’s and pushing _up_ and _in_ until John groans.

 

“I won’t ever get tired of watching you two do that. Gorgeous.”

 

John huffs out a laugh and pulls himself up on the chains, slowly fucking himself on Alec’s cock. “So, tired of _doing_ it to us then?” The panic in his chest almost immediately broken down by the predatory look in James’ eyes.

 

“Are you _trying_ to goad me into fucking you through Alec’s lap?”

 

Alec groans at that and pushes up into John, quick sharp thrusts that have John panting and on the verge of begging, mumbling incoherent praises and “ _More, more, more._ ”

 

James curls his fingers into John’s hair and pulls his head back, sealing their lips together and there is no doubt who controls the kiss, John lets James push deep into him, allows himself to be greedy for James’ touch. He relishes the tension, the pull between James’ mouth and Alec’s cock and hands. They purposefully pull him in opposite directions, Alec’s fingers digging grooves into John’s hips, pulling him down as James leans back, the kiss turning into the faintest brush of lips. 

 

“Hold him, Alec.” 

 

James reaches up and opens the clip holding John’s wrists on the chain, lets the chain swing back towards the centre of the room. John’s wrists are still bound together, but without the tension on the chain he falls back into Alec’s lap. Alec shifts under him, spreads his knees and presses them into the underside of John’s thighs, forcing his legs open further. Alec threads his left arm through John’s elbow and rests his fingers firmly on John’s neck. 

 

John breathes deep and tilts his head back, inviting Alec’s fingers higher.

 

“That’s good, I’ve got you.” Alec wraps his right hand around John’s cock and strokes gently, matching the movements of his hips.

 

He’s expecting it when he feels James settle between his legs, opens his eyes and lifts his head to watch James put on a condom and lube up his cock. Expects the pleasure/pain as James presses slowly into him alongside Alec’s cock. Fights his body’s first reaction, with James barely inside him, he tenses and James stops. They wait while Alec strokes John, whispers in John’s ear, praise and “ _let us in John, that’s good, let us in... so tight.”_

 

James sinks deeper with every one of Alec’s words and John thinks he might come just from this, just from the two of them filling him. 

 

“Jesus.” John exhales and relaxes with a shudder of pleasure. 

 

Alec’s arms tighten around John, holding him against the pressure of James’ thrusts, tiny counter thrusts of Alec’s hips against James’ smoother motions. John turns his face to Alec, receives an awkward, not quite kiss, just the presence of lips and the exchange of air, both of their necks craned too far. Awkward angles and almost too much pleasure, John groans as James stops and reaches for the lube, running slick fingers over both their cocks and pulling John down, forcing them deeper and John’s legs farther apart. 

 

“Faster, please.” The sound of his voice surprises John, he hadn’t intended to say that, hadn’t been aware that he was capable of speech. Everything they have given him, as full as he is and he still wants more. _:never enough, John, and when you finally get everything you need... that will be the end of you:_ The strangled noise in his throat is mostly pleasure, he can feel the spread of warmth at the base of his cock that heralds orgasm, still it is Sherlock’s voice in his head.

 

“Come back to us John, you’re ours now, John.” They both slow, James pulling back. “Too much?” 

 

“No, fuck, please no. I’m going to come.” John shifts his hips as best he can to try to regain their rhythm.

 

Alec’s fingers tighten on John’s cock and James pushes back in, and for just a moment everything is perfect and John is floating, every nerve in his body alight with pleasure and sensation, and then he tenses, held close by his bindings, Alec’s arms and the weight of James pressing into him. John’s heart pounds in his chest and for an instant he might swallow his tongue. 

 

They fuck him through it, hold him steady as he comes down, hold him boneless as James pulls free only to slide into Alec, the wet latex sound of the condom being removed catching in John’s awareness and he tamps down a flare of jealousy. John whimpers, overstimulated, and Alec lifts him slightly to pull free. “No, no... stay, just... I want to feel you, please, don’t move.” John doesn’t participate as they adjust, merely allows his body to be moved to best suit the other two men. 

 

“ _John_ , god, John he’s so hard from you...”

 

John can’t answer because James presses forward and kisses him, rocking gently enough into Alec that John groans into his mouth, sparks of afterglow floating through his system. He chases the sensation, rocking his hips against Alec and is rewarded with Alec’s stuttered groan. 

 

He’s not entirely sure when James comes, only that he bites John’s bottom lip when it happens. 

 

No one moves for ages, and John might have fallen asleep but for the beginning of a cramp in his thighs. “James.”

 

Slow, deliberate movements free John, first from the spreader bar, and then just separating his wrists, but not removing the ropes. James pulls him up, holding onto John’s wrists, and then they both turn to help Alec to his feet.

 

“Join me in the shower?” John manages to make it sound casual, not at all like inviting them into the last private place he has in this relationship. 

 

James pulls him close and smiles, tipping John’s head back for a kiss. “Thought you’d never ask.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if the part that comes after this is going to make itself into a separate fic or not... I just don't know what is going on inside my brain right now... sorry...


	8. The end?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems only fitting that a fiction almost entirely plotless should have a heavy and emotionally weighty epilogue. 
> 
> SO... some warnings. This chapter contains canon-compliant violence and torture. STOP NOW if these things trigger you in any way. 
> 
> Also there is no porn.
> 
> [LapOtter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LapOtter/pseuds/LapOtter)should receive many praises, for sie is the most amazing beta. and also to [airynothing](http://archiveofourown.org/users/airynothing/pseuds/airynothing) for cheering and [Interrosand](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrosand/pseuds/Interrosand) for all around awesomeness, I would not be able to do this without you all.

They’d fought about the mission. Technically John isn’t rated for this, and he doesn’t speak the language. Q branch streams translations into John’s ear piece, and so far, he’s managed not to mangle the few words he’s been forced to speak. Thankfully he’s only had to bark orders at guards; no one is expecting him to hold forth on the weather, or… whatever passes for conversation in this particular level of hell. 

He’s thankful for the weight of the uniform; the heavy wool coat keeps him grounded. He’d laughed at the safe house, faced with a pair of very unhappy double oh agents. “Don’t blame me. Better Q branch found out now that the interrogator is an old friend of yours. I’m the only fresh face available. It’s taken half a year to open this window, we might not get another chance, and God only knows if M’s mole will last.”

Gaining entrance to the very off-the-book interrogation facility had taken him the better part of the day, traversing an interconnected web of traitorous and legitimate military channels. If it hadn’t been for the two years, nearly, that John had been following James and Alec on missions he wouldn’t even believe that places like this existed outside terrible Hollywood spy movies. _More accurate than James will admit, Hollywood_. Dripping pipes and flickering lights, only a token bored guard, despite their prisoner’s nearly successful escape six months ago.

John lets himself be grateful the corrupt would-be-warlord is getting sloppy again; they’d have needed to wait for another double oh team if they’d been up against the proper military when James and Alec’s cover had been blown. John taps his fingers over his mouth to hide his grin from his escort. It’s all well and good providing support for Alec and James, but it is _fun_ being back in the field again. 

The escort opens a rusty door with a theatrical squeal of hinges, and steps aside. John grunts at him and steps over the threshold. His eyes roll a little in his head and he swallows; he’d known what he was likely to find, but it doesn’t make the sight that greets him any easier to take.

The prisoner he’s meant to be rescuing is in the centre of the room, arms bound, chains running to the walls, and a bag over his head. John manages not to jump as the door swings shut with a clang. The room is quiet and John’s briefly concerned that he has lost comms, but then there is a click on the line and Q’s quiet voice reminding him that they still have 30 minutes before extraction. 

John grunts and nods at the interrogator, and settles into the folding chair he’s offered. His instructions were specific: no matter what he needs to give Alec and James the full half hour to get in position. He must at all costs make sure that the hostage survives. James had wanted to just walk in, silenced Walther PPK and spotless tuxedo. But M insisted this needed to look like a successful break out on the hostage’s part. John was just there to assist, smooth the way as it were.

John settles back, forcing himself to put his feet up on the crate in front of his chair, and he waves his hand at the interrogator, gives his blessing for the interrogation to start, hoping that the hostage will forgive him once he’s free. 

John watches the interrogator prepare his “tools.” The man is bald, well muscled, tattooed, not unpleasant to look at. But John is not a masochist, and every line of this man screams sadist.  

The bag is ripped free from the hostage’s head, revealing only long hair and shadow before his head drops between his shoulder blades. John folds his hands in his lap and finds a point on the wall behind and to the left of the hostage to watch, listens to the stream of translations in his ear piece. The shouted questions hardly matter except as a way to mark the time. It is easier to ignore--well not easy, but less difficult--because the hostage doesn’t answer. 

Until suddenly he does, whispers, choked and thick, too quiet for John to hear. Apparently too quiet for Control as well. “Line, John: What is he saying?” The translation comes through, slow and clear and John waits for it to repeat before he says it aloud. 

The hostage is too quiet, and John only hears translations when the interrogator repeats him. John sits forward, plants his feet on the floor and scratches behind his ear, tapping three times quickly on his ear piece. It’s a sound he'd heard often enough from the other end of comms, loud enough to get their attention, simple enough that John doesn’t have to speak to tell James and Alec to hurry up because everything is going rapidly pear shaped. 

There is a gun in his pocket and he could shoot the interrogator before he did any unacceptable--permanent--damage to the hostage, but he doesn’t know if he can get out of the compound without James and the extraction crew. He’s not even listening to the words anymore, just watching for signs of violence. 

“Three minutes, John.”

John leans back, watches the agitation build in the interrogator until he bolts from the room. The relief that floods him when the door slams and doesn’t lock brings John to his feet and across the room. The keys to the hostages’ shackles are on the table, and John’s thankful they won’t have to improvise some way to free the man. 

He approaches slowly, holding the key where the hostage can see. “This is going to sound odd, and I’m sorry, but I’m here to rescue you.” John fits the key into the lock and prepares to catch the man when the tension is released.

“Rescued myself.” The hostage’s voice is still thick; there’s definitely damage to his nose, hopefully nothing wrong with his lungs, although John can’t rule out pneumonia. “You _watched_.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, there’s a team nearly in place. We are here for you, though.” The chain drops to the floor with a harsh bright clang and John winces. 

The man fights, pulls back against John’s hands and struggles to stand on his own, his arm moving slowly towards his side. He overbalances and tilts away from John, sliding to the floor.

John tuts and unlocks the other cuff. “It’s okay now. My name’s John Watson, I’m with MI6. I’m here to take you home.” The second cuff falls away and the man rolls towards him slightly. John pushes back the hostage’s hair, tangled curls soaked in sweat and blood, longer than the last time John had seen this, _blood on the paving stones, exactly a pint, they wouldn’t let me touch him_ , Sherlock’s face under new bruises and dirt, blood and snot.

“You’ve come for me, John.”

The only thing that saves him, that saves both of them is that John is already so calm. He feels the icy river of shock in his bones, he can’t, not now, not when he needs to get Sherlock up, get him out and get him _home_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to post, this story... got bigger than I thought it would. 
> 
> There are stray bits of "Putting John Watson back together again" floating around in my head, but if they ever get written down I will add a new work to this series.

**Author's Note:**

> There is at least one more chapter to this. Possibly two... depending on how dinner goes.


End file.
